Long-Distance Diagram
by Schermionie
Summary: The long-distance diagram Lavender drew when she was sixteen was very different from the one she'd draw ten years on. Of course, it's different now that the one she's missing is a continent away, instead of just a few desks. [Parvati/Lavender femmeslash. Oneshot character/relationship sketch. Challenge response.]


**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to Sailor Moon, and absolutely no one reads these.

**A/N:** I fancied trying out the character sketch genre, but I also wanted to write this pairing, especially in a non-angsty yet not _all-out_ fluffy way. The two things sort of melded together.

**Challenges:** The Character and Scene Challenge by EveryShadeOfDeath (Lavender Brown, climbing out of a window) and All Sorts of Prompts Challenge by Cheeky Slytherin Lass (Sunday, January 26th, 2014: window).

* * *

Lavender Brown, aged 8, loved many things: the kitten curled up, purring, in her lap; her bed covers cocooned around her on cold mornings; the way a smile from someone she cared about was more than worth being on her best behaviour and doing as she was told and not getting to do things she wanted.

If she were to name it, Lavender would name it a love for closeness.

Parvati Patil, aged 8, loved many things too: daring scaredy-cat Padma to go to the forbidden parts of the neighbourhood with her; the trips to their family still living in India; finding out all the gossip about everybody and everybody _they_ knew too before passing it on.

Parvati would probably call it a love for sharing in the unknown.

* * *

"So how long have you two been living together?" is a question with many answers.

People never mean Hogwarts – the six school terms they dormed together, and all the summer sleep-overs, don't count, somehow. "Best friends" doesn't count to most people.

Then there was the war: the scar in the timeline that stopped theirs from being just a cute story about two friends falling.

"Nine years" is the standard lump sum: the time their names have been on their house's lease, entwined in legalese and entangled in countless cards and calendars.

Crumpled receipts and food packaging suggest otherwise, however. "There are times when only one of them has been eating!" they yell before being stuffed into the rubbish.

Parvati will try to count the months she's been away making documentaries or writing articles or books, then deduct, if a more accurate answer is demanded. But when she reaches years she'll give up with a smile and a shake of her head. The strain in her smile will stretch the genuine note in her following dismissive laugh and wave of hand; but then she'll ask you whether you've been to Paris, or have you seen so-and-so's new boyfriend? Did you hear what a top clothes designer said about a rival when she thought no one could hear? And her enthusiasm will banish that hint of sensitivity from your mind.

Lavender will smile too, tucking an errant strand of long blond hair behind her ear. But all she'll say is, "A long time."

In dreams and in reality, calendars come in different sizes.

* * *

Draw a line with two breaking hearts leaking blood at both ends and you have long distance.

At least, that's what sixteen-year-old Lavender once doodled instead of making Transfiguration notes, pining over how far Ron Weasley's desk was away from hers.

Parvati had drawn a new diagram, one in which the hearts were closer but still breaking and leaking blood. One Yule Ball for her and Padma had been enough. Besides, Lavender was too beautiful for Ron.

The Long-Distance Diagram as Lavender would now draw it would be far more detailed and complicated than that, whilst not nearly as dramatic. She would need to cover these phenomena:

_Mirror-Mongering:_ Two-way looking glasses are great for communicating long distance, right?

Wrong. There's much more to communication than _looking_. Lavender wants to reach through the glass and smooth the stress lines from Parvati's forehead – to flick her in response to teasing – to braid her hair – to kiss her.

The only thing the mirrors are _great_ for communicating is gossip. Luckily, they both collect a lot of that, and their transatlantic gossip exchanges have their own set of rituals that distract them from the distance (Lavender always letting Parvati start; taking a shot every time the current clueless fashion writer for the _Daily Prophet _gets someone's name wrong, etc).

_Cats Got the Cream:_ All their cute fluffy Kneazles knowing that, now that Parvati is gone, Lavender will let them sleep in the bed with her and give them more attention. But they're extra affectionate with her, just to make _sure_ it happens.

_The Second Helpings of Delight:_ Being able to take second helpings of a meal every night because Parvati doesn't know the first thing about cooking but insists on doing it most of the time, _honestly_.

_Parvati's World Darts Championship Tournament:_ The game of Parvati's World Darts is an easy one – you just throw a dart at the world map with the aim to hit somewhere that Parvati has travelled to for work. Extra points if you get the place where she currently is, wreaking vengeance on a place for stealing her away.

It requires four returning players, i.e. three friends, booze and pizza, and Parvati must never know.

If Parvati were to draw a correction of Lavender's new diagram, she would add these phenomena:

_The Shoe There, The Shoe Here:_ Having the same sized feet as your girlfriend is perfect because you can borrow each other's shoes, right?

Wrong. Parvati will never forget the time when she was to have exclusive UK coverage of the world's premier fashion exposition, only to discover that she had to do it in either the beat-up flowery converses she'd travelled in or Lavender's favourite hot-pink leopard-print glittery 4-inch heels.

_Drink the Wine on Time:_ Otherwise known as, Parvati usually being a tad hungover or even drunk during international travel because Lavender can't finish wine bottles on her own and their friends don't like the wine they drink and isn't it a shame to waste it? Don't you want this one last evening together? Otherwise known as, Plastered Parvati, the nickname that sticks.

_The Second Helpings of Guilt: _No longer having to pretend to be full after one helping of Lavender's cooking, because it is so terrible that she can't bear to eat any more, yet Lavender tries so hard to impress her.

_The Reverse Second Helpings of Guilt:_ Starting to miss the way Lavender murders every flavour she tries to add to a dish.

* * *

"So how do you cope with being apart all the time? Don't you – you know –" and this part will be said in a smaller voice, as if being in another country is not far enough away out of earshot – "_worry_ that she'll meet someone else while you're away?"

It's a question with four answers.

Of course you worry when she has an infinitely more glamorous job than you, does infinitely more exciting things than you, meets all these amazing people you could never compare to.

Lavender won't say so aloud, though. Parvati shares everything she does with her; it would only be if she stopped sharing that Lavender would truly worry.

Of course you worry when she has more close, constant relationships as opposed to your I'll-see-you-if-I-see-you ones, when you can't always be there when times are hard, when she's always been so into romance and you kind of grew out of it a bit more than you expected.

Parvati won't say so aloud, though. Maybe their nine years has been fragmented, but neither the six years of friendship, nor the seventh year of hell at Hogwarts, were. Nothing can erase or fragment what made and in certain ways keeps them close; only if that happened would she truly worry.

Through the years, they cope.

* * *

Parvati Patil, aged 38, hates many things about Lavender Patil: how she still doodles stupid things on important documents, leading to things like the tax officials almost certainly knowing the names and appearances of all the Kneazles they've ever had; how her cooking has somehow got worse instead of better over the years, and she's still in denial about it; how annoyed she gets if Parvati ever brings something home that she has no immediate use for, even when it's _sure_ to come in handy…

Lavender Patil, aged 38, hates many things about Parvati Patil: the way she has of collecting yet not using free things from hotels and events, which then accumulate in monstrous, threatening piles; the way her cooking has somehow got even worse over the years, and she's still in denial about it; how, when she is actually home, she likes to leave the windows in the house open even in winter, letting in the chill air and making everyone but her miserably cold…

Even so, when Parvati is in a boring conference where there is no need to really take notes, she does find herself doodling – sometimes a Kneazle, sometimes a random pattern that just occurs to her, and occasionally, two hearts at the end of a line.

And even in winter, Lavender's routine for the times when Parvati is away is to have the window open for a while, to climb out on to the sill and let the elements embrace her.

If they were to name it, they'd probably call it a love for love.


End file.
